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by Sapphires And Gold
Summary: One-shot. The Hand of the King has a request to make of the Lord Commander of Bran the Broken's Kingsguard. Follows the end of 8x6.


**I've never done this before, but this story came to me while I was at work the day after the GOT finale, and I had to write it down. May it bring us all a little closer to closure.**

**...**

The first small council meeting wrapped up. Ser Bronn and Ser Davos lingered before followed Maester Tarly's shuffle out of the chamber, and the King's Hand motioned to Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.

"Ser Brienne, stay a moment."

Brienne joined the dwarf near the alcove where he was already filling a goblet of wine for himself.

"How may I be of service, my Lord Hand?"

The Hand looked to the doorway and scowled "Tyrion…please…it's just you and I… and you and Bronn are…," here he paused to choose the best wording here and, raising his eyebrows, "the closest things I have to friends here. It's Tyrion."

Brienne assented with a curt nod from her towering position and Tyrion sighed, took a long swig from his goblet and set it down, placing his hands on the side table.

"Brienne…" Tyrion eyed the knight slyly to see if she was affronted by the use of her name alone, and although her left hand gripped the lion pommel of the sword on her hip, her face remained inquisitive if not somewhat wary but un-offended so he continued, "I have something I would ask of you. As the Hand of the King I could probably proceed without your approval, but this is a personal request and I do not wish to burden you without that approval."

The blonde knight's brows knit and her glance became introspective as if trying to catalogue a short list of items outside of her Kingsguard duties that would require her say-so. Tyrion eyed the knight, willing her to guess what he was asking so that he might not need to say the words – words which put together still halted his breath and sank him into despair. Brienne finally met his eye again, no less confused.

"I will try to be of assistance."

Tyrion sighed and turned back to his goblet and refilled it. He glanced over his shoulder at the overly honorable woman who was twice his height, the woman who could have been a member of his own family….at one time. He gestured to the wine but she shook her head gently and put up a hand. Tyrion nodded as he filled his glass and carried his goblet back to the long council table, remembering the last time they had dined together, playing his stupid game, driving her from the hall with his callous suggestion only to have his brother…his brother….

Jaime had loved her. He had followed her north, knighted her, fought beside her, loved her. He would be following her to the ends of the earth to fight by her side still if only he hadn't been so sick when it came to their sister. He had been happy, a man truly in love, and then he had left her.

Tyrion suppressed the memory of seeing his brother after that ride south, shaking his head, and gesturing for her to join him at his right. As she sat, Tyrion bit his lip, willing the words to come forth and, when they didn't, drank deeply once again. He began quietly.

"Brienne, I'd very much like to see my brother and sister buried properly."

He watched as her entire body stiffened, her back straightening even more as if that were possible, her chin set, but her eyes were soft and wary as if the next emotion could be anywhere in the range of bitter anger to bliss. Tyrion licked his bottom lip and then continued, cautious to meet her eye again, choosing instead to watch his wine settle in a flat line in the goblet before continuing on.

"My sister will be buried in Casterly Rock. She should be with our mother." He could feel her watching him, possibly as terrified as he was of his next words. He eased into it – "Cersei always blamed me for killing our mother in birth, for taking her away from her…I want to reunite them, though she hardly deserves it. She deserves to rot in that dungeon downstairs...but i shan't have her haunting us." The knight seemed to be watching him carefully, daring him to continue, "My father hated me for killing mother too, though with my father anything I did was a failure, a personal affront to him. if I were even less of a man than I am already I'd hurl most of my family into some wasteland crevasse."

He looked at her again hoping she would have heard the jocularity in his tone, but she was looking away from him, at the table, the window, anywhere that wasn't the words coming out of his mouth. He knew that mention of Cersei must be torturous to the woman Jaime had abandoned, so he tempered - "I would not have survived if it had not been for my brother."

He saw her swallow hard and breathe deeply within her golden armor as if bracing for a blow, almost fuming. In battle she was fierce and tuned in to everything around her. According to Jaime she had heard him struggle from across the Winterfell battlements and had destroyed a dozen wights just to get to him. At Harrenhal she had been pulled out of the bear pit and immediately jumped to action to pull Jaime out behind her. She was usually a step ahead in a physical fight. Here though, she seemed unmoored. He searched her face and she, sensing that he was watching her took another deep breath and met his glance – the sadness he saw there was enough to make him ashamed, and there was a hardness in her face that left him fearful. Sensing that his bravery was about to leave him, he quickly continued, watching her all the way.

"Jaime never wanted the Rock. When we were younger he never wanted anything, really, just for his family to survive; doing the right thing only ever meant doing the right thing for his family. Nothing else mattered. Our father wanted it for him - wanted him to become Lord of Casterly Rock, but Jaime could not bear to be away..." He was dodging around some difficult territory now and his mind tried to divert him - don't mention the bear, he thought comically to himself, "He didn't want the Rock, instead he kept drinking the poison that is King's Landing. I'm sure you've noticed that the capital is toxic to most people, but to Jaime it was like a beacon" Brienne seemed to grind her teeth, her stare hardening. Tyrion hesitated to continue.

"Yes, he made it clear that King's Landing was where he felt he should be, with her," she clipped "In the end. He knew he might die and he went to her anyway. He believed...he thought that was what he deserved...that they were the same. And I...I tried but he would not be convinced otherwise." Brienne swallowed and looked away, stifling bitter tears.

Tyrion took a long breath and then, in almost a whisper,

"If I'd been able to stop Daenerys in time - if anyone had been able to get through to her - he might've still been alive. If I had managed to get through to Cersei before the fires began...before he left the north...I am enough to blame. Cersei and Daenerys are enough to blame. Do not blame yourself for this."

Brienne refused to look at him, her breathing less controlled than before. Tyrion tiptoed to the precipice of his request, "I don't want him buried here. I don't want him trapped here forever in this godsforsaken place and I certainly don't wish for him to be stowed away in Casterly Rock near the woman who took him for granted all his life. He should be somewhere else…somewhere where he can be free of that sickness…somewhere with sun and air…"

He was on the verge of tears now; only Brienne's hard steadiness kept him from breaking down completely in front of her – she who must have thought him mad by now, speaking as if the dead could enjoy the sunlight…maybe in Winter but not here, certainly not since Arya Stark had slain the Night King…Brienne's eyes were wide and blue and deep like the churning sea, her mind reaching his point almost before he did…the point….get to the point, Tyrion….

"Brienne, I wish...I want to bury Jaime – "

"- in Tarth…"

Brienne had all but spat out the words with a surprised look, almost despite herself, surprised at herself – perhaps guessing Tyrion's wish, perhaps willing her own unconscious wishes into being, but she had said it, her next words slow and measured, almost funny in her tone – Tyrion nearly forgot it wasn't a joke and returned her near incredulous look, and nodded.

"You want to bury. Ser Jaime Lannister. In Tarth?"

She seemed to be in disbelief, rightfully angry, he thought. Tyrion sighed and put his hand on hers which, until this point had been almost gripping the edge of the table for dear life while her left hand remained steady on Oathkeeper, gripping the sword as if fearing that it might fly from her as his brother had, or perhaps willing herself to keep from separating Tyrion's head from his body. Her hand flinched beneath his but she did not pull away. He leaned toward her…careful, he thought, you cannot afford to lose her now.

"I hear it's beautiful there. I hear the seas are the blue of your eyes, that the winds are always fair….And I appreciate the irony of Jaime having lost his hand for the damned place." At this, Brienne scoffed, but Tyrion breathed a sigh of relief as the tension in her body seemed to drain ever so slowly, "I know that this must be an incredible burden for you, and I do not wish to cause you further pain. I do believe that is where he was truly meant to be...where he wished to be in his heart."

"He'd never even been to Tarth," Brienne countered suspiciously, angrily..

"Ah, but he had sailed past it and told me he was quite taken with...with it."

Brienne's face was unreadable as she looked away.

"Outside of his own, "he said very carefully, eyes tearing up now, "I do believe if he were ever to truly bend the knee to any other House….it would have been yours."

At this, Brienne met his eyes, tears shimmering in her oceanic depths, then hardening at his glance.

"Do not mock me."

"I do not! Surely! I would never. You were the only one -"

"He left me."

"He loved you."

Tears fell from Tyrion's eyes now as he gripped her gloved hand firmly, not letting her avert her gaze.

"He loved you. You made him who he truly was. All those accomplishments you wrote down in the book of Lord Commanders - that was your influence on him. He was always better than Cersei in his way, but….he changed with you. I never understood why or how that could be until I had spent time with you - seen the two of you together. I'd never seen him happy and free before you. He wanted to be a better sort man because of you. He _was_ a better man because of you. Before meeting you, before Harrenhal...he was gallant and reckless and stupid. With you he….well, he was still stupid but he was honorable. And brave. He trusted you because you believed that he could be that man. Yes, he left you. He went back to her. She and this city were the worst place he could have been, together they made him insufferable, but it was not...it was a sickness. He was ashamed. He didn't believe he could ever deserve happiness after what Cersei had turned him into. But truly, he loved you."

After a few moments of silence, Brienne finally spoke, her voice breaking "He was. Honorable. And brave." She met Tyrion's eyes now, "and sometimes quite persistently stupid."

At this, Tyrion could not suppress his tearful laugh.

"But I….." she seemed lost for words, but quickly she recovered, shaking her head, "we made each other better, he and I. I never admitted it to him," she said with a sad glance, "but he made me a better fighter – I'm not talking about the armor or the sword," which she now held tenderly as she took a breath, "he brought out the best in me, even when we sometimes brought out the worst in each other."

Tyrion smiled sadly and squeezed her hand.

"Love has a terrible habit of doing that." She nodded slowly, swallowing her tears and looking, he thought, almost regal - like he'd never seen her before – like a woman who knew was on the brink of knowing how worthy she was of the love she had found and then lost, like a woman who could not be stopped in pursuit of that knowledge – almost, he thought, like a true Lannister lioness.

"When he left I thought to follow him. I would have," she closed her eyes as if to push away the memory, "I would have died for him."

"But then you'd both be dead now. I think he feared that most of all. He thought that Cersei might win the war and he was afraid -"

Brienne looked at him skeptically, cutting him off "He would have fought for her." And then seeming far away "I always dreaded meeting him in the field."

At this Tyrion shook his head. "If Cersei had won she would have killed him. Maybe not right away...he had abandoned her to join you and she knew that." The knight's shoulders seemed to sink a little as he went on. "She'd known that the two of you were close for years - that you had a part of him she had never been able to grasp, and she had threatened both your lives when it was only a guess - imagine what her jealousy might have done..."

Brienne looked away. "She knew I loved him, even before I did. She threw it at me at Joffrey's wedding."

Tyrion nodded knowingly, "Yes she was annoyingly perceptive in that way. I'm sure she knew Jaime's feelings before he did as well." He paused, looking at her archly, "I suppose that's why he sent you away on that fool's errand to find Sansa. He knew you wouldn't be safe near Cersei."

"No, he was fulfilling his promise to Lady Catelyn, that's why..." She stopped and Tyrion looked at her expectantly, "...no...no he didn't believe I would find her. At Riverrun...he told me...He told me he thought she'd be dead...that he never expected me to..." Brienne seemed to spiral now, the realization that he had been protecting her - the armor, the sword...the distance was the most valuable gift he could give her. Perhaps he had loved her then. He had practically begged to serve her in the battle at Winterfell and when the fighting was over and they'd confessed so much to one another, he'd said he'd stay with her. When he left she thought it a betrayal but truly...he was giving her the gift of distance a final time. He had still been trying to protect her in his own stupid way - to protect her from himself as well as Cersei. Brienne looked at Tyrion, astonished at the realization that his hateful act might have been an act of love. Tyrion offered her a slight smile and patted her hand.

"You will always be family to me, Brienne. You and Bronn, you bring Jaime's memory to life for me. Even when you're bickering, maybe especially when you're bickering. I hope to one day be worthy of your trust, as he was." Brienne closed her eyes. To Tyrion it looked almost serene, as if playing the image of her happiest moments against her eyes. When she opened them her demeanor was kinder than before, a smile playing on her lips."

"Yes, but where would we find the bear?"

Tyrion laughed and Brienne looked pleased with herself for the jibe but remained steady, and still incredibly sad.

"Brienne…will you permit me to send my brother home?"

At this, Brienne sucked in a ragged breath – home…she hadn't been to Tarth in so long; when she had left, barely grown, she had never planned to return until she was could no longer swing a sword above her head. Had he lived, she might have taken Jaime there if only to selfishly see the sun light up the gold in his hair against the lush green hills and the sapphire sea of her birthplace.

Her real home, she had realized long ago, was Jaime. She was never afraid of leaving something or someplace so much as when she left Jaime behind - he was her center in many ways, but she was always leaving and hoping against hope that he would follow. Finally he did, trailing her from King's Landing to fight by her side at Winterfell. And when the fighting was over, she had found herself truly home. With him.

She might serve on the Kingsguard for many years yet, perhaps until her dying day, perhaps long past all her kin were gone. But when she did go back to Tarth, her home could be there, waiting, a jewel in the glittering sea; Jaime could be there, and he could finally rest in the arms of the woman he had loved.

"Yes," she whispered.

Tyrion looked relieved – for himself, for Brienne, and for Jaime.

"He will lay in a place of honor in my family crypt." She smiled sadly, but Tyrion could not help thinking it was the most beautiful smile he'd seen in years, "He'll be a stranger in that land but one day I will go home, to him."

He looked on her in wonder as she struggled with her next words, finally, sardonically:

"At least he will not be able to insult me in my old age."

Tyrion smiled, beaming at her.

"You never know. He was rather persistent."

Finally, for the first time since she had last lain in Jaime's arms, Brienne laughed.


End file.
